


Entertaining Angels

by celestial_light



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Lack of Communication, Memory Loss, crowely is just very bad at communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_light/pseuds/celestial_light
Summary: Crowley fell because he hung around the wrong crowd. Years later, he realizes Aziraphale is doing the same thing. Only that bad crowd is him.orHow far would Crowley go to ensure that Aziraphale didn't make the same mistake that he did?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just got into good omens. I never heard of it before, but I really fell in love with it and had to write for it. Forgive the angst, I was listening to Lauryn Hill when i wrote it XD Let me know how you think I did! I am my own beta, so excuse my mistakes!
> 
> You can also read it [on my tumblr](https://myinkandtrees.tumblr.com/post/185752937072/wip)!

Contrary to what the other demons believed, Crowley did not want to fall. It had been a mistake, a pure result of peer pressure, of which the consequence he suffered greatly for. And it was not a simple fall. It was a downward spiral. A gradual and remorseful transformation from angel to demon. Tendencies he’d been created with, gone. Things that made Crowly him, gone. And it had hurt. 

The souls of the forsaken dead were not the first to scream in the pits of hell. It had been the angels. They were the first to be tormented. The first to be charred into something unrecognizable. 

There were times Crowley believed he was a ghost of the angel he was. That the angel had died when he’d fallen to hell and succumbed to its torment, and what was left was his anger and sadness. And more importantly, it’s regret. 

Regardless, his unfortunate ordeal began with an association. And to be more exact, it began with questions. 

Questions that his partner (boyfriend, husband, he wasn’t certain what they were, but it was something along those lines) was currently treading thin ice with. 

“Why did you fall?“ Aziraphale had asked, bright eyes peering over the top of his book. 

“I told you because I hung around the wrong people.” Crowley had intended to keep it short and to the point. He loved Aziraphale, but the question was a dangerous one. And a question of the same nature had sent him down a miserable rabbit hole. 

“What kind of people?” Began the angel, “I mean, I know they are demons now. But as angels, how were they?" 

”Aziraphale,“ Crowley warned. 

"Crowley.” Returned the angel. He’d lowered his book, and had locked his gaze with Crowley’s. Even with his sunglasses on, Aziraphale had no trouble seeing his eyes. They said nothing for all of five minutes before the angel broke his gaze and returned to his book. 

"You still associate with the other demons,“ Aziraphale continued. Though something about his demeanor changed. The sternness from before was no longer there, and the irritation melted into insecurity. Behind his glasses, Crowley raised a brow. This was not like Aziraphale. He wasn’t the jealous type. At least not in regards to the company Crowley kept. Not when they both reported to their respective people. 

"Is this jealousy I sense?” He asked, nonetheless. Watching the angel’s face for any indication of such. 

“No.” Aziraphale hesitated. “It’s…reconsideration." 

If Crowley had a heart, it would have fallen to his stomach. Just what did he have to reconsider? Of all the choices they’d made recently, their relationship had perhaps been the biggest.  

"Of us?” Asked the demon. 

“No, of course not!” Aziraphale nearly shouted, the sudden rise in pitch startling them both. He cleared his throat, sheepish at his outburst. 

"I’m not reconsidering us.“ He clarified, more calmly now, "I’m reconsidering me." 

"I don’t follow…" 

"Oh, I think you do.” Said the angel. Though his tone, his conviction, his questions reminded Crowley much more of a demon than an angel, and suddenly he understood. 

“Oh no Aziraphale.” Crowley said, removing his glasses, “The moment you start asking questions is the moment everything goes to hell, literally." 

"Is that such a bad thing?" 

Never did Crowley believe he’d find himself arguing against an angel in favor of heaven. But he had done worse for Aziraphale. And if he didn’t do this, then there would be no angel to argue with. 

"Azirephea–" 

"I have had questions,” He continued, “And you did too, obviously. And because of it, you were thrown in hell. And before I met you I thought hell and it’s…occupants…were bad. But things have changed. What we’ve been through and experienced together has made me wonder if your decision was…right." 

Crowley was taken aback. This was not a good conversation. This was not right. 

"Are you listening to yourself? You are an angel!" Crowley cried, "You are who you are because you are an angel. If you fall Aziraphale, you won't be you." The demon inhaled deeply, allowing the small breath to calm him. 

"This-this hesitation and questioning will pass, believe me, it will pass." Crowley emphasized, "But what won't pass is the choice you make because of the questions." 

There was an uncomfortable silence that fell amongst them, and this was much, much longer than five minutes. For all Crowley knew, what he'd told Aziraphale had gone in one ear and fallen out of the other. For the angel to even suggest falling meant he had put his mind to it (no doubt thanks to Crowley's constant tempting). 

Then Aziraphale stood, breaking the tension and setting his book to the side. Then, with a clearing of his throat, he said, "I think it's time for you to go Crowley. I have things I need to think about." 

"Are you kicking me out?" Asked Crowley, hurt, "over this?" 

   
"I'm not kicking you out, I just really need time to think. And I don't think you being here...tempting me will make things any easier." 

  
He could have laughed at the irony. 

   
"Me tempting you will be the least of your worries if you go on with this ridiculousness." He said, snidely. 

   
Aziraphale returned his comment with a deflated look. Part of Crowley felt guilty, but the other part yearned to be realistic with his partner. 

Against his will, Crowley stood to his full height and placed his glasses back on his face. There was no need to stay and complicate things, it would be better to find a way to resolve this issue at his place. 


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley would rather they didn’t end things badly. He would rather they didn’t end things at all. And the only way they couldn’t end things is if there was nothing between the two of them to begin with. Crowley’s thoughts drifted to altering reality. And if not that, then time. There were ways to do this. One involved erasing what had been done in the Garden of Eden.

It would mean they would never have met, and thus Aziraphale would be saved. But it would also mean that time would be ridiculously altered, and the repercussions not even Crowley could foresee. 

That left the second and final option. He could wipe Azirepheal’s memory. Aziraphale would go on living his life in blissful ignorance of just how utterly backward Heaven was, and thus live eternity being happy with his nature as an angel.

  
Crowley would lose the one thing he valued most in life, but at least what he valued would be safe and happy. 

Erasing the memory of an angel, however, was no easy means. And one that could not be done by a single demon. In fact, Crowley doubted a demon could do it at all. The only thing capable of effecting an angel that badly was another angel. 

The demon groaned and drew his gaze to his phone across the room. 

He did not fancy contacting the angels by himself, and honestly doubted they’d answer his call. Though if it came to it, he would find a way. But it was so much easier if others already in contact with them could do it for him (they thought they were so sly with their obvious back channels, but unlike the rest of the idiots in hell, Crowley knew what the higher-ups were doing). But would they do it for him was an even more pressing question. Hastur and Ligur despised him and had made it a point, quite frequently, to let Crowley know they did not trust him. They tolerated him because they had to.  And gushing to them about how he feared for an angel’s nature would no doubt ruin the tolerable part of their non-existent relationship. 

That left Bezelbub. Unlike the former, she didn’t particularly care for Crowley. Meaning she couldn’t be bothered by his existence. And that was better than having two biased Dukes taking his case, and he could likely lie his way into this. Still, approaching her with his situation seemed as complicated as telling Aziraphale to abandon his questions. In no world could he see himself actually asking any demon for help in regard to his situation. 

Help in hell was an oxymoron. 

“You’re back to square one, Crowley.” He muttered to himself as he leaned his head back and groaned. 

If he wanted to speak to the angels, he would have to do it himself.  Now it was time to explore the logistics of this. A demon reaching out to the angels. Not some Duke or some Lord of Hell, but a relatively generic demon (to be fair he wasn’t generic, not after the hand he played in bringing humanity to its knees. But still, he hated to be considered anything other than plain and simple. He hated drawing attention to himself, especially from Satan). 

Could he? Simply call up a group of angels and discuss wiping a member of their races mind? Could the consequences be bad for Azirapheal? Could this be used to–

  
Crowley groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. This thinking was getting to him. Not to mention, it was preventing him from reaching his actual goal.  The more he wailed in his own worries, the more time Azirapheal would be contemplating falling from heaven, and the closer Crowley was to losing his partner. 

He needed to find an angel, and he needed to find one quick. Preferably one of the archangels. They were always around, especially during the holidays. Especially Christmas, and if Crowley was up-to-date on his holidays, Christmas was right around the corner. 

Suddenly, Crowley was struck with an idea. 

What better way to get an angel’s attention than by praying. True, angels received countless amounts of prayers from thousands of people every mili-second and had managed somehow sort them neatly inside of their heads. 

Even Crowley had his share of prayers. From dedicated cults of course.  They kept him up at night though, and some he ignored more than others, but oh he definitely heard prayers. But his prayer would not be ignored. Not coming from a demon, and not going to the angel Gabriel. 

Aziraphale had a very complicated relationship with Gabriel, and in contacting him Crowley would have to play his cards incredibly well and maybe lie a bit in order to keep Azirapheal out of serious trouble. That said, Gabriel did have it out for the other angel, and would do whatever he could to cause him pain–within reason of course. Crowley certainly hoped his situation was “within reason”. 

———————————————————————————————————–

Crowley hated Christmas. Just as he did any other Holy Day of obligation, but Christmas was particularity the worst. Followed by Easter. Easter came with the terrible migraines. But after this, Christmas would definitely be the worst day for him. If all went well, it would mark the end of his relationship with Aziraphale. 

He’d gone to great lengths to remove his plants from his living room, as angels tended to be particularly…bright. And while his plants had to live up to certain standards to be living with him, it would not be fair to punish them for burning because of an angel. And besides, there wouldn’t be much left to punish. 

Snow tapped gently on the window as if to remind Crowley that it was Christmas and that he had an important matter to attend to.  And if it hadn’t been for that, than Aziraphale “Merry Christmas!” call earlier in the day–that had nearly melted Crowley’s ear drum-certainly let him know. They’d set up a small date for later that evening. And despite Crowley’s obvious issues with Christmas, he obliged for Azirapheal.  Though that all depended on his conversation with the angels. 

It was time to call Gabriel. 

Crowley knew how to pray,  he had done it when he’d fallen and begged for forgiveness. The result had been less than kind to his vocal cords, and he figured his voice would be ruined by the time he finished his sprayer to Gabriel. It wasn’t hard to find a prayer on the internet, Gabriel–despite his awful personality (according to Aziraphale)–was a sought out angle. 

He took a seat and dug in his pocket for the small prayer he’d printed.  

Even the paper tingled just slightly, and his eyes watered at the very words. He didn’t even have to imagine the pain he’d experience when he let the prayer roll of his tongue, not when he’d feel it within seconds. 

He closed his eyes and sighed. It was for Azirapheal. 

Then he spoke. 

It was like eating hot coals. He gagged on the words, and with every heave, a cloud of soot erupted from his mouth. Still, he prayed, and agony took him. 

It wasn’t as bad as praying to God. But then, he had stopped immediately, and the pain had been a harsh reprimand for his action. 

Now he powered through, and the pain was sure to be long-lasting. 

And to his utter annoyance, there was nothing. He supposed Gabriel could have been ignoring him, that not even a demon’s prayer would get his attention. 

His vision began to darken. And he began to slump out of his chair. If this damned angel didn’t appear soon, then all that would be left was a pool of soot. That wouldn’t be so bad he supposed, at least Azirapheal would be safe. There would be no explanation, but it would be a solution. 

“I assume there’s a reasonable explanation that  you, a demon, is praying to me on Christmas Day.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. 

A statement from a less than pleased angel. 

  
Gabriel had come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I live for kudos and comments :D They let me know how I'm doing, and give me fuel to write the next chapter. Also, visit me on my tumble, myinkandtrees.tumblr.com :D


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